Bonnie the Vampire Slayer
by Love Robin
Summary: What does Bonnie do while Kim is Saving the World? Why, Saving the World, of course! The Secret Life of our 2nd favorite cheerleader, latest of a bloodline safeguarding a dimensional 'Rockwall'. Find out why she is always so cranky. Tara & Hope too


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bonnie, the Rockwallers, Tara, Hope, and Kim Possible and company. They are owned by Disney and Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. In addition to any original characters shown or mentioned, any treatments and spins all belong to me and can not be used without permission. Okay?

**Bonnie the Vampire Slayer**

Chapter One – _Downhill Scramble_

"_Bonnie!"  
_"_Bonnie!"_

"_Bon–nn–nnniiee!"_

There were days when Bonita de la Isla Rockwaller hated the sound of her name. This was turning out to be one of them.

Her feet slipping out from under her at a fortuitous moment – _I meant to do that!_ – dumped her onto her butt and into a slide across melt-slicked metal flooring as the massive snowbeast sailed through where she would have been. Both creature and fourteen year old girl skidded in their respective directions, crashing into ruined machinery and wall respectively, Bonnie's legs splayed in a V as they and her rump impacted. Both scrambling for proper footing, with several repeated spills, the mousy-haired debutante took a second to take note of where the rest were.

Faces flushed, Connie and Lonnie were being squeezed back-to-back within constricting coils of a huge snake-like chimera with a hissing, forked-tongued, cat-like head. Part of her mind dubbed it _cataconda._ Screeching in anticipation of a meal-to-come, bulk of its length amid overhead piping, it held them suspended in mid-air kicking and struggling, their padded snowsuits offering only a couple extra minutes breathing room. The brunette twin at least had the presence of mind to keep a firm, if awkward, grip on her holdout sleeve knife. Despite limited motion at wrist, she was nonetheless repeatedly stabbing at the thing's spotted muscled body.

Mrs Cándida María de Jesús Rockwaller, however, was dealing slightly better, backed into a corner while fending off simultaneous attackers from three sides. Another chimera, this one the body of a brown-coated Jack Russell terrier, dashed about on lobster legs, claws snapping at her ankles, and a pair of _manimals_ armed with spears; one a chicken hawk, the other a tusk-less boar. In the snapshot-blink of a moment, her mother, crane-style on one leg, arms stretching above her head, twirled a double-headed _naginata_, or Japanese pole-arm, with such speed it seemed she would lift like a helicopter. Switching legs in a kick, the elder Rockwaller sent the _lobsterrier_ flying.

"_Bon–nn–nnniiee!" _the woman called in an almost shrill tone designed to cut through noise and carry distances. "Stop wasting time and finish it already!"

Regaining its footing, letting loose another bone-shaking roar, the _rabbinoceros_ started another lopping charge.

As did Bonnie, albeit away from it and open ground. _"Ahhhh‼‼"_

Lonnie managed to gasp out, "I… can't be…lieve… you're the C…O!"

"Why do I have to be the Chosen One for _this?_ Why can't I be _American Starmaker's_ Chosen One instead?" Barely evading the creature, she weaved and dodged, running broken field – and the field in the ruined cave laboratory was truly broken – rubble and debris strewn everywhere.

There were days, too, when she hated Kim Possible. This, too, was turning out to be one of those as well.

The night before, the former main device _doodad_ overloaded from some catastrophic failure, rupturing itself and triggering enough of a seismic trembler to set off an avalanche. It was only once reports of echoing roars of the snowbeast came in hours ago they knew her redheaded classmate had not finished the job properly. So, although the supernatural index here was low, it was decided the hand of the Slayer was what was needed.

_Stooopid Kim Possible! Some world-saving hero! Why can't she ever finish what she starts?_

_The fate of the world should not have to rest on the shoulders of a girl…_

**† † † † †**

Twelve year old Bonnie, soul-dead teal eyes filled with pain, anger, and accusation, glared across from where the Rockwaller family stood among a gathered crowd. Briefly meeting her best girl friend's sympathetic olive green eyes before dropping to watch the proceedings between them.

Opposite, Kim Possible stood respectfully in front of parents each resting a firm hand on the shoulders of her eight year old brothers, occasionally jerking them still, keeping them from wandering away and getting into mischief. Despite their ages the twins had never outgrown the inclinations of their Terrible Twos. As like everyone else present, all wore black and somber clothing, which made Kim's red hair stand out all the more by contrast.

_Why were you even there? For what godly reason did you need to chase after Mrs Mahoney's cat? Did you_ need _to track it to the woods behind her house? That night? At that specific moment? Just to earn some extra spending money?_ the debutante's thoughts burned hotly as she stood with her family. Next to her stood her dweeby little brother Donnie, the same age as Kim's brothers. Like them, two hands rested on his shoulders to still his restless shifting. Unlike them, both of those hands belonged to their weeping and distraught mother, their father unable to deign the existence of the rest of them, much less help control children he expected to be on best behavior at all times.

Rockefeller 'Rock' Rockwaller's features, like his name, was stoney. Set in granite. Immobile and unmoving. Lost in his own pain although none appeared upon his face.

Zero expression. Zero emotion.

Zero feeling.

Nothing since hearing the news.

To his right stood the Terror Twins. Four years her senior, the fraternals were ever haughty; Connie in her sensible business-like pantsuit, Lonnie wearing the same top over the shortest miniskirt she could get away with, hitched up a few final inches to display as much of her legs as possible. With expressions closer to father's than mother's, both exuded a bored air like the royalty the family acted.

"…we commend the soul of our departed sister – Veronica Elizabeth Rockwaller – and commit her body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection unto eternal life… ."

However, Bonnie had eyes for none but the redhead… _Hell of it is, I'm not even allowed to tell you your part in all this! _…and the casket lowering between them… _Had you not been there, Vonnie'd not've needed to protect your skinny braces-wearing ass!_

_The fate of the world should not have to rest on the shoulders of a girl…_

"…_VONNIE‼"_ Five nights prior Bonnie had bolted upright out of a restful sleep, shrieking, in a cold sweat.

By the time her mother swept into the room she found the youngest daughter hugging legs to chest with one arm, shivering all over, looking very small and staring at her other visibly shaking hand.

Her husband's vibrant voice queried behind her, "Is it…?"

Leaning against a door jamb for support, legs quivering as much as voice quavered, the woman barely whispered, "…the transference, yes. Bonnie's now the Chosen One. Our oldest baby… is…," she choked out, "…she's… fallen… ."

"Skipping the twins," he grunted, no hint of emotion, no effort to lower his voice. "This is – unexpected. Bonnie has had no appreciable training whatsoever."

"Rock… our girl is gone… ."

"This is why we had three others, to ensure the Essence remains in the bloodline."

Rallying rare anger, "She's _dead!"_

"Yes, Candi," he turned on a heel, walking away without comforting either wife or daughter. "An expected occupational consequence. Let us hope Clonnie makes certain she will not turn."

However ten minutes later when 'Clonnie' – the combination name the Patriarch used when referring to brunette and blonde twins together – arrived, the news was far from good. They rushed in through the front entrance harried, with leather outfits rumpled, hair in disarray and small cuts crisscrossing their skin. That in itself was not alarming as an herbal recipe for an ancient healing salve, easy to whip up, would prevent infections and scarring.

Having been expecting them and hearing their car roar up the mansion's long driveway, Rock was standing at his preferred place to 'hold audience'; on the platform at the head of dual staircases sweeping up from either side of the grand foyer to the second floor. It was a spot overlooking the open and expansive space with its intricately carved natural granite centerpiece, offering him an excellent looming position of authority and intimidation. He stood alone. Cándida hung back, standing midway up one of the next set of stairs sweeping up to the third level instead of her normal couple steps off his right shoulder, providing comfort to a still shaking and distraught youngest daughter wrapped in a blanket.

Hands clasped behind his back, he simply said, "Well?"

While Connie, the smarter sister, raced through the archway under his 'dais' for the armory vault in the subbasement without pause, Lonnie skidded to a halt. The only one aside from their mother and a couple of his rare friends able to call him anything other than 'Mister', the blonde was the man's favorite of all his children. Almost improperly so. Which usually made her the designated messenger of bad news since she was able to influence him as much if not more so as any man seeking to get into her frillies.

It was a carefully calculated dance she had to perform with him as there was not a single doubt in her mind a misstep or miscalculation would see him taking her as a mistress.

Equally without doubt would she then be powerless to protest or resist. That it would be incest did not matter. Such things were of no concern to him as their family traditions adhered to a genealogy which could be traced back over two hundred generations. A militant bloodline stretching back farther than even their Iberian Kale Romani heritage – specifically Serbian by way of Chile – all the way to pre-Christian druidic roots, when free-loving sex held virtually zero taboos.

However, the amount of leeway and extra privileges she leveraged for herself first, and twin sister second, was worth the risk.

Unobtrusively tugging miniskirt down an inch or so, she began relating the events of the evening, "Everything was going smoothly, according to plan. We were in position with trap set along their most recent feeding ground long before the sun went down, which let me tell you waiting for is like the most boring of…"

"Focus, Longoria," Mister chided.

"…right! So there we were, like waiting for either the creche leader or a significant number to fall into place, when we find ourselves like wondering why one of them wandered through clutching a yowling cat, but since we were like going for the leader, Vonnie indicated for us to hold back all patient like and everything, pointing out where more were like encroaching in on the trap. She indicated for us to hold up for like more of them to get into position when all of a sudden, like, there they were!"

"Who?" he prodded.

"Bon's twerpy friends, Kim Possible and that boy Stoppable!" the blond sneered. Most of the family disliked the idea of rubbing shoulders with the middle-class. Would have in fact preferred to live in Upperton had the mystical _Rockwall_ not dictated their home be in Middleton. "They came jogging through, Kim calling the name of Mrs Mahoney's freaking _cat!_

"Con thinks they were baiting their own trap, the pack moving in for the kill. So anyways, Von swung into action early to keep them from attacking the kids, signaling for us to hold to our positions."

"Only the trap the creche leader set was for the Slayer, not some random kids off the street," Connie added as she swept back into the 'audience chamber', arms laden with gear modern and archaic. Armed for hunting bear… or vampire, as the case was. "They overwhelmed Vonnie before we could move. The leader had already bit and was sucking her dry as the rest of the creche ran interference. By the time we dealt with them he had picked her up and leapt away into the trees, laughing his ass off."

"We were like, unable to follow."  
"We needed to restock, but now we can go back and track them."

Rock's face hardened further ever so subtly. It was a full minute before he spoke. "No rush. Veronica is gone. Dead."

The two teens looked at each other, expressions ranging from shock to disbelief.

"But Daddy‼ Neither of us felt anything!"  
"Yeah, if she were dead, the transference… ."

"Hit Bonita not even fifteen minutes ago," he said in a steady emotionless voice, "for some reason skipping the two of you. She is now the Slayer. As I no longer expect a body to show up, leastwise not dead, we need to stage a death scene to explain her disappearance. Get a couple of her DNA packets. Did any bodies remain?"

Lonnie nodded, "A few of them were human servants."

"Excellent. Stage the Snatch and Chipper Scenario out by the Old Flanner Mill. She was grabbed by a couple guys to be raped, she got free. There was a struggle, the woodchipper accidentally activated. She fell in but dragged her assailants in with her. You'll need ample packets of her blood as well. Conchita, set the scene well. Keep an eye on the details and really sell it. Longoria, you mind your sister and avoid taking shortcuts. Remember, CSI units these days are hard to fool, so give them enough to tell the story so they need not look too closely."

"Right away, Mister."  
"Yes, Daddy."  
Nodding, the twins dashed through the arch once again for the basement, this time for one of several refrigerated vaults from which to gather the necessary items…

…_so you can't even know why I hate you,_ the memory finished but the young brunette's slitted glare remained. If anything, it intensified, expressively open eyes forever gone.

_The fate of the world should not have to rest on the shoulders of a girl…_

**† † † † †**

…_it really, really shouldn't‼ _

Hearing the beast's heavy panting breath, as well as feeling its thumping footfall through the flooring, drawing closer, the girl leaped atop a three-foot hunk of fallen rock, flexing knees to springboard herself into a back-tucking ball-out. The maneuver spinning her back over its head for a dismount onto neck and shoulders, grabbing double handfuls of course grey fur.

_Yes! Nailed it!_

Trying to dislodge its sudden passenger, rearing back on its hind legs, the _rabbinoceros_ roared in annoyance.

Ensuring her left hand grip as secure, Bonnie pulled from her opened yellow and grey jacket a wooden stake. A deft flip to reverse her grip, and at the apogee of one of the monster's hops, she let it fly.

Flying true, it hit the back of the cat-snake's throat through its opened mouth. Although not the same as a metal blade, it had the strength of a slayer's enhanced muscles propelling it, lodging its machine-honed point home. Screeching, violently recoiling, the thing worked at dislodging the intrusion, coils loosening enough for the twins to slip free. Connie and Lonnie immediately dove in opposite directions upon hitting the ground. The leggy blonde, snatching a previously dropped handgun on the fly, twisted, bringing aim upon _cataconda_ and squeezing off a half dozen shots along the length of its body. Cobra-quick, it withdrew from sight, disappearing amid the pipes overhead.

"That's for wrinkling my _de la Rentas_, you overgrown clothesline!"  
"About time, Twerp!"

"Help Mother!" Bonnie shouted, returning attention to her own problem at hand. Holding onto the bucking chimera for dear life with both hands. Squeezing knees tightly against its thick neck, she once again risked freeing a hand, this time drawing an H-shaped device from a pocket. Gripping one upright in left hand, fingers straddling the crossbar, she used her teeth to unlock it with a half twist and back, separating it into two T-handles. A flick of her wrist sent one T, trailing thin piano-wire, around its neck, looping back to waiting right hand.

Pulling hard, trying to uncross arms with all her might, the teenaged slayer leaned back, adding her weight into the effort. Air cut off, no longer able to draw breath or loose roar, panic set into the beast. Its leaps and bounds to dislodge her doubled in energy and height, forcing the girl to hang on even tighter. Wire cutting fur, hide, and into its jugular, in one frantic rebound it drove head-first into a wall, collapsing on its side. Arterial red gushed against her legs, spraying the wall, and still Bonnie leaned backward, gritting teeth as arms inexorability uncrossed.

Kicking at wall and ground, the _rabbinoceros_ spun a donut in gravelly dirt.

"Come on, y'mangy, long-eared, bucktoothed, horn-nosed, cotton-tailed _freak!" _the debutante screamed, eyes closed. _"Die_ _already‼"_

_Crunch!_

Something suddenly gave, and the mighty aberration lay still but for a couple final twitching leg spasms.

_Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!_

"_Sit, _damn Spot! _Sit!" _

Rolling free of the huge corpse Bonnie was in time to see her blonde sister empty the rest of her weapon into the scurrying _lobsterrier. _

"No more _walkies_ for you!" Lonnie huffed, kicking it for verification while changing magazines and advancing a round.

Meanwhile Connie, retrieving a shotgun, fired into the back of the boar which-walks-like-a-man. As they had come prepared for supernatural threats, it was loaded with rock salt, so while shredding the creature's snowsuit, it was less than life threatening if not taken in the face. However at that range it was extremely painful. Squealing in agony, it twisted, trying with both arms to reach its injury, distracting the upright chicken hawk long enough for Candi's swinging pole-arm to nearly decapitate it.

The boar received a point-blank follow up to the face.

Silence fell upon the cavern, broken only by panting and ragged breathing of victorious humans. Immediate threats over, the four women found various places to sit and catch their breath a moment.

"Not bad, Twerp," Connie begrudgingly acknowledged, loading additional shells into the shotgun.

Lonnie added with an expression half sneer, half smirk, "Yeah, one might almost confuse you as the Slayer."

""Next time, don't wait so long in saving our lives,"" they finished in unison in one of their rare twin-speak moments.

Snorting, Bonnie tossed back bitterly, "As if there _will be_ a next time. For the millionth time, I _don't want_ to be the Slayer!""

"And yet, you are."  
"And yet, here you are."

Shifting to a spot next to her youngest daughter, Cándida 'Rock Candi' Rockwaller draped a reassuring arm across shoulders, "Don't be like that Pumpkin. You did a great job here."

"I don't want to be doing any kind of job, great or otherwise!" the girl whined. She hated to show weakness in front of the Terrible Two, but with Mother there to defuse them, her guard was relaxed some.

Who hugged her. "Vonnie, would have been proud to see how well the mantle of slayer fits you."

Normally balking at such a display in public, with not being _in_ public, the girl leaned into it. The thought of Vonnie made her melancholy. She felt the loss deeply. The older sister was the only one of them with anything even close to traditional, loving family values, providing her with a measure of protection from Mister's devious familial intrigues and manipulations, including torment at the hands of…

"Of course, if still alive, she'd still be the slayer."  
"Of course, now she's not."

"Oh, huussshhh you two! Leave Bon Bon be. She saved _your_ derrieres so show some gratitude."

Together, in a less than sincere sing-song, _""Thanks, Bon Bon…""_

Feeling like a child for a moment, the sight of her blood soaked legs reminding she had just killed yet another… this time living…_ thing,_ in a small voice she asked, "Why, Mom? Why do I have to be a Chosen One? Why can't I be normal? Why couldn't the Essence have gone to someone else? Mister wanted the twins to have it. _They_ wanted to have it. So why did I get stuck with it?"

"I'm sorry Pumpkin. Nobody wanted to see your sister cut down so young, or for Con and Lon be skipped over. But we don't always get to choose our destinies, Sweetie. More often than not, our destinies chose us. That's why it's called fate, and someone has to do it, don'tcha know."

"Knock, knock."  
"Who's there?"  
"Chosen One."  
"Chosen One who?"  
"Some Twerp who doesn't deserve it."  
Both sisters laughed, collapsing into each other's arms.

"Hush up, you two!" Candi scooped up one of about a hundred ruined plush toys scattered about and, with unerring aim, beaned the two of them with a shot worthy of a seven-ten split. Shocked quiet for only a second or two, the girls resumed their boisterous gaiety. Bonnie wished it really had been a bowling ball. The mother continued, "Why not make yourselves useful. Go get the gas cans from the snowmobiles and make ready to torch this place."

Still chuckling at their sister's expense, the girls pulled themselves to their feet, walking for the entrance the snowbeast had dug out, supporting each other arm in arm.

"I really hate them," the young slayer groused.

"Don't be like that. They love you."

"Love to torture me, you mean."

"Nahhh," rubbing Bonnie's upper arm vigorously, "Not torture. Steel sharpening steel is what it is. It's the Rockwaller way. Toughens you up, prepares you to face infernal evils, and makes you a better Chosen One."

"Wish I could choose to give it away. Not to them, though. Maybe to Kim Possible. I hate her too. She deserves all the problems that comes with being Chosen.

"Oh Pumpkin, you don't hate her. I seem to recall you two being like peas and carrots as kids."

"Yeah, well, that was then. Now she's totally insufferable with her whole 'I saved some big shots and the world a couple of times' routine. She _doesn't_ know what saving the world is _really_ all about!"

"How could she? She's not a Rockwaller. It's not _her_ family which has been tasked with safeguarding the integrity of the _Rockwall_ for two hundred generations. And with the addition of the Essence of a Slayer in our bloodline for nearly half that.

"No, Pumpkin," pulling her daughter in closer, "you're a Rockwaller, and for now the fate of the world is in your capable hands."

Closing her eyes, for a minute luxuriating in the comfort of her mother's arms, the young debutante swallowed what she really wanted to say…

_The fate of the world should not have to rest on the shoulders of a girl…_

…_mine._

* * *

**Notes**: Here is one of two of my supernaturally oriented fics. This one focusing upon Bonnie the Vampire Slayer. Although close in themes, this does not share the same Kpverse as _Gypsies, Vamps & Thieves._

Inspired by a challenge on the **KP Slash Haven (dot) Net**, which itself was inspired by a picture by DA member Vooqui, I shall be telling the story of another World Savior from Middleton who works a different venue than Kim. While the redhead saves the world from mainly mundane threats, Bonnie traffics the supernatural. My aim is to tell Bonnie's tale as between the lines of the show, leaving canon whole and intact, starting here just after the events of _Downhill, _Connie and Lonnie arriving off-screen. Probably parking the car and securing their rooms from intrusions while Mumsy finds Bon Bon.

I'm not certain yet if I'll touch any of the Buffyverse other than as the inspiring source, but if I do, understand that the circumstances which saw both Buffy and Faith as active Slayers simultaneously is not the first time it ever happened. Another ancient line of Slayers was spun-off, somehow binding to the bloodlines of the Rockwallers and related clanship. I've yet to say it but Bonnie is the 14th consecutive Rockwaller slayer, Vonnie unlucky 13th. There have been others in the bloodline before them, but this is the longest running block of slayers in the family.

Which brings me to my OCs, Bonnie's oldest sister by eight years, and here fallen slayer, Vonnie. If you wish to know what she looks like, check out Future Bonnie in _A Sitch in Time_, but with black hair. Not only will Vonnie exist in my vision of the Rockwaller family in my other stories, even if unmentioned, but I plan for her to be the still-living Slayer in them. Yes, that includes GVT…

I've also introduced the father, Rockefeller 'Rock' Rockwaller. A very stern, cold, distant and harsh man with little in the way of family love inside him. Not just hard to express his feelings, I mean, virtually without them. He views his children as assets more than loved ones. It is almost impossible to please him. With the exception of his wife, and Lonnie, he insists on being addressed as 'Mister'.

I had originally given the mother the name of 'Pebbles' to retain the "stoney" motif. However, and if you're re-reading this you may have noticed the edit, my Muse has sparked upon a better name for her; Cándida María de Jesús Rockwaller; known to her friends and peers, such as Mrs Possible and Stoppable, as 'Rock Candi' and 'Rockette', the latter nickname gained from Candi's aspirations for a career in dance.

There is also an OC younger son, Donnie 'the Dweeb', who is the same age as Kim's brothers.

More about this family, and the mystic _Rockwall_ from which they have taken their name in he same fashion a Miller originally got his from working a mill, as the story develops.

I also have a 1-shot idea focusing on Connie and Lonnie, sent to be on the road Hunters ala Sam and Dean Winchester, but I'm less hopeful about getting it posted before this Halloween (2010). I'll try, but no promises!


End file.
